


Course Credit

by BarrysLightningRod



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, College, F/M, Nudity, Prompt Response, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 16:44:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18077156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarrysLightningRod/pseuds/BarrysLightningRod
Summary: Art student Barry Allen takes a life drawing course. Iris West is one of the nude models. You fill in the blanks. Written as a prompt response.





	Course Credit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeroSavesPeople](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroSavesPeople/gifts).



Barry Allen gathers his sketchpad and charcoal pencil collection in preparation for his walk to Central City University’s studio. As a fine arts student, he loved nothing more than being afforded the privilege of attending a school that valued its liberal arts and humanities programs just as much as its STEM ones. He didn’t think he’d have been able to bear being greeted with disapproving eyes any time he introduced himself and his major otherwise, an occurrence that was far too often whenever he revealed his studies to certain relatives or former high school classmates, even when he explained his desire to work as a forensic artist. Luckily enough, CCU was the perfect utopic institution where the two disciplines coincided with mutual respect, where he could vibe well with his mechanical engineering major roommate Cisco Ramon, and even strike up a close friendship with him. 

For some time now, he’s anticipated this assignment for ART 236, Anatomy and Figure Drawing, a drawing elective. When deciding between electives, he knew registering for this particular course was an obvious necessity considering his career goals. Even if his goals changed, it would allow him to step out of his comfort zone of computer graphic design, and he owed it to himself to take advantage of as many opportunities as he could to expand his graduation prospects. It would speak to his skillset if his portfolio included a wide array of images and techniques.

Today’s project has him slightly nervous because it was the first time he was working with a live model. In class, they were moving past drawing from photographic references and onto actual living, breathing people. 

 _Nude_ people. 

He knew he had opted to get himself into these circumstances and that his choice of career could likely have him recreating naked bodies for the rest of his life, but the initial awkwardness of it all was still an obstacle he was going to have to overcome. To ease the discomfort, his professor, Dr. Wells, had each student list their availability at the beginning of the semester to be matched with a model for a private drawing session in the studio. Dr. Wells insisted that one-on-one sessions would allow for maximum concentration and leave no room for anything else, but Barry would rather at least a second student be working adjacently. Caitlin Snow, his TA, would be present in the office next door if assistance was needed, so he did feel a sense of relief that he wouldn’t be entirely alone with a naked stranger. 

Hopefully, he would grow accustomed to it sooner rather than later so that his focus could be entirely on producing the best image. He didn’t want his nerves to affect the quality of his drawing, or a more frivolous desire, the chance to secure another A on his transcript. Of course, Barry was aware that artistic talent could not be quantified in grades, but he was still proud of his perfect grade point average and had aspirations to graduate with honors.  

The trip to the studio is a short one from his dormitory. Barry checks the time on his phone, and in a panic, sees that it’s 10:08 AM. He was already late to his meeting with the model, and he still had to check his phone in with Caitlin and go over paperwork with her before entering the studio. He curses himself for adding unnecessary stress to a situation he was already apprehensive about and rushes quickly into Caitlin’s office.

“Barry,” Caitlin greets flatly. “You’re late.”

“I know, I know,” Barry acknowledges. Caitlin was a fellow art major, though on a premed track. When she introduced herself during the first day of class, she described this course as the perfect blend of her anatomic and artistic interests, which was why she applied to be a teaching assistant. She was a good one, but she was quite strict and cold, and evidently had a habit of bluntly stating truths, most especially when they least needed to be heard. 

Still, he knows her assessment of him is a factor in his overall grade, so he forces a smile and an apology. 

“You may be a fast drawer who impresses Dr. Wells-and myself,” Caitlin admits, almost reluctantly. “But you should still be mindful of my time and the time of your model.” 

Barry’s stomach sinks at her reproach, despite her compliment. It was true that he had garnered praise for how quickly he worked compared to his classmates, even earning himself a fond nickname, “Flash”, but that still didn’t mean he wanted to be thought of as irresponsible. 

Caitlin seals his phone into a security baggie and has him review and sign the College of Art and Design’s non-harassment policy, as well as its student rules and guidelines for figure modeling sessions. 

“I’m here if you have any questions,” she concludes. 

“Got it,” Barry nods, anxious to get started. He makes his way down the hall, hoping the piece he produced could make up for Caitlin’s dissatisfaction with him. 

He pulls the studio door aside, ready to greet his subject, his apology for his tardiness already on his tongue-

He slams the door back shut again as soon as he’d opened it, hardly believing who stood in the room. He half wanted to open it again to check his eyes weren’t deceiving him, but he feared letting it fall closed a second time once he got confirmation that it was indeed her and embarrassing himself even further. 

Forget graduating with honors: he was going to fail this class entirely. 

Caitlin must have heard the door slam, because she peeks her head outside the office to see what the source of the noise had been. 

“Is there a reason you’re not inside the studio already?” she interrogates. “I have an Orgo exam later you know-” 

“I can’t do this,” Barry blurts, without even an attempt at pretense. 

Caitlin frowns. “Why? Are you uncomfortable or something?”

Barry decides to go with that excuse, given that it wasn’t entirely false: “Yes.” 

She stares at him. 

“This is an elective course, one that _you_ opted to take. You JUST signed a form promising that you understand what’s expected of you.”

“I did,” Barry gulps. “But-”

Caitlin sighs. 

“Look, Barry-don’t you think I’m also going to be a little uncomfortable the first time I have to examine a naked patient?” she states matter-of-factly, as though medical school admission were guaranteed in her future. “You’ll get used to it.”

“You don’t understand!” Barry cries, near hysteria now. “I didn’t realize that-that-”

“That this assignment is worth thirty percent of your final grade?” she suggests, brows raised.

She was right. There was no option besides following through with the situation at hand. If he left, he would receive a zero, and if he asked for another model, that would certainly raise suspicion. Worst of all, it might offend her, and that wasn’t exactly the best thing to do to someone he admired, someone he wanted to love, someone whose affection he dreamed about…

Mortified, Barry swallows again to compose himself and opens the studio door for a second time, coming face-to-face with his crush, Iris West, wearing nothing but a robe and an expression of confusion. 

“Are you the ART 236 student?” she asks immediately. “Barry Allen?”

“That’s me!” Barry chirps, despite breaking out into a sweat. 

Iris relaxes visibly. “Thank God. I was beginning to wonder if I came on the wrong day.”

 _If only you did,_ Barry wishes. He would almost rather draw a naked Dr. Wells than go through with this.

“Why did you come in and then sprint out?” she probes, furrowing her brows. 

Barry's pulse pounds loudly in his ears. He should have known that Iris wasn't going to let him off the hook easily.

“Oh-uhhh-I had to use the bathroom,” he lies, before realizing that presenting himself as someone who put off bathroom use to the point of barely containing himself wasn't quite attractive. 

Nonetheless, Iris accepts his explanation as sufficient and seemingly moves on to the next rational step of their meeting, introducing herself.

“I'm Iris West," she states, beaming up at him with her signature smile that confirmed she was indeed the one and only.

"I know," he replies, smiling back instinctively. His grin vanishes however once he realizes Iris isn't exactly aware he knows who she is. 

Sure enough, his fear is validated. 

"You know me?" she questions. 

“Uh-uh-” Barry stammers again, wondering how possibly he was going to explain himself without coming off as a creep. He can't believe the deeper hole he's managed to dig himself into. 

"We-we took a Gen-Ed course together actually," he confesses, hoping that would seem more normal than he'd convinced himself it wasn’t. 

To his surprise, Iris doesn't seem disturbed by his recollection of her, despite how large the student population was. On the contrary, she appears thoughtful. 

“What course was that?" she inquires. “I feel like I would have remembered you.”

At that, Barry's heart flutters. Why would she have remembered him? Would he have left a positive or less-than-stellar impression on her?

He decides to take his chance at answering that question, letting her make the judgement lest he torment himself further. 

"It was PSYC 100,” he explains. “I was pretty quiet in class, but I just-remember you always answering questions and leading discussions.”

That much was true, as it was the first time he had been made aware of her, in all her drive, intelligence, and beauty, but he leaves that part out.

"Hmmm," Iris considers, before perking up. "Well, I'm sorry that I can’t remember you, but all that means is that I get a second chance to get to know you now to remember you later, right?”

Barry blinks before an easy smile takes over his face. That was such a nice thing to say. It didn't surprise him that Iris was as sweet as she was beautiful. Maybe he had won the jackpot in being assigned to her for the chance to get to know her better. How else was he ever going to otherwise? Catching glimpses of her at random spots on campus? Reading her articles in the student paper? Clicking her profile on Facebook?

His optimism is short-lived though, as she tugs onto the belt of her robe, reminding him that she was completely nude underneath and that this situation was far from how he wanted to become more acquainted with her. 

"So," she bubbles. "Are you ready to start?”

There was no way he would ever be ready, but Barry has no choice but to brace himself and nod yes.

Wordlessly, and with such ease, as though she were alone, Iris slips her robe over her shoulders and lets it drop to the floor. Barry silently thanks whoever had placed the chair in the room in the spot it was at, otherwise he might have collapsed instead of stumble into it out of sheer mesmerization.

His throat goes dry as he takes her in fully, certain that any high score he earns for this assignment would rightfully be attributed to her rather than his technique. Alternatively, he could completely botch the entire thing due to an inability to keep his cool around such beauty.

He had known ever since he first laid eyes on her that she was beautiful, but nothing could have prepared him for just how exquisite she would be unveiled. The first thing he takes note of after her allure is how much more petite she seems nude. Without the enhancements of shoes or clothes, her true height is apparent. She has a chiseled collarbone that Barry isn’t sure he can sculpt with his charcoal. He had practiced drawing breasts of varying shapes and sizes from photographs over the course of the semester, but he’s never seen a pair suspended from a chest as gracefully as hers. As they make contact with the cool air, her nipples animate before his eyes, and he’s suddenly overcome with the thrill of the challenge in capturing their pebbling with a still image.  

His gaze follows the contour of her waist that gives way to her rounded hips, then her supple thighs, between them a matte of dark curls whose texture he’s already itching to replicate. Even her feet and hands strike him, despite weeks of browsing and sketching from photos upon photos of different human appendages.

His only regret in looking at her was that he was duplicating her in black, white, and grey, because he'd love nothing more than to paint the vivid brown of her skin or the soft pink of her lips. A portrait devoid of her coloring wasn’t an accurate representation of how commanding a subject she was.

Unfortunately, while his eyes recognize her beauty, so does his body, and he registers that his gaze upon her triggers his pulse, which prompts his own anatomy. 

_Fuck._

Barry crosses his legs and clears his throat, setting his sketchbook on his lap. Thankfully, he snaps out of his daze the moment he does, because Iris had been trying to get his attention all while he was ogling her. 

"You alright?" she inquires. “You've been staring at me for a while now.”

Barry adds that to the growing list of ways he's been giving himself away today. 

"Oh, haha," he fumbles. “Sorry, just an artist thing. We tend to-study our subjects intently,” he bullshits. “You know, so that we can do the best job possible. It’s easy to get caught up sometimes, especially when they're beautiful-I mean, not beautiful-I mean, you ARE beautiful-”

Iris smirks. “Let’s get to it?”

Yes. The less he spoke the better.

"How do you want me to pose?" 

“Right.” Barry could deal with logistics. He rummages through his sketchbook, to show her a photograph of a figure sprawled across a couch, arms spread out carelessly above her, ankles slack beneath her. “This is the pose my professor wants us to recreate.”

“That’s a relief,” Iris breathes. “I was worried I was going to have to stand on my head or something.”

“No, no,” Barry assures her. “This is a beginners’ assignment, so he just wants us to get the hang of  structure and shading and proportions for now before we move on to more complicated poses.”

Iris settles down onto the couch and leans back, raising her wrists above her head so that they dangle off of the arm rest. Her legs follow suit on the sofa’s other end.

“Is this okay?”

Barry takes a deep breath. Seeing her spread out and on blatant display under quality lighting was even more glorious. His dick twitches at the vision.

“It's perfect,” he manages. 

He commences his sketching like he typically does, positioning vertical and horizontal lines in strategic locations on the page to scale the image. His next step is to lightly trace shapes to represent different body parts, but just as Barry puts his pencil tip to the paper to draw an oval, he hesitates. 

It doesn’t feel proper to craft a body as beautiful as Iris's from basic shapes. She’s too ethereal to arise from simple figures. Suddenly he wants to try to emulate her as intricately and as meticulously as he can, fashioning her from head to toe. It would take him longer than he’s used to, especially considering his "Flash" status, but he owes it to Iris to capture her as best he can, even if Caitlin isn’t going be too pleased with him. 

He hopes she’d studied enough for her exam later.

"Why are you taking out a fresh sheet of paper?" Iris wonders, a smile quirking her lips. “Am I harder to draw than you thought?”

 _You have no idea_ , Barry muses truthfully, but he’s also honest when he replies, "Wanna make sure I get you down in a way that does you justice.”

Iris's smile widens, and the image of her lounging elegantly while her eyes sparkle at him has his dick straining in his pants. He squeezes his thighs together tightly and does his best to concentrate on his work. 

“So, what year are you?" Iris asks, her tone singsongy. 

“I'm a sophomore," Barry answers, tracing an outline of her silhouette. 

“Me too!” she gushes. Barry tries not to let himself feel too roused at her enthusiasm. "Art major?"

Barry connects the ends of Iris’s profile together. 

“How’d you know?” he jokes, trying to make her laugh before self-consciously following his attempt to be funny with a, “You?” He was eager to know everything about her after all. 

"I'm undecided," Iris states. "But it's a toss between psychology and journalism." 

Barry bobs his head thoughtfully, now shading under the neck of his figure to highlight the angle of Iris’s chin. 

"Both valuable in their own right." 

"So is art," Iris remarks. "If only more people in the world thought so." 

“Yeah," Barry agrees, pleased that she not only was accepting of his studies, but critical of the society that wasn’t. "I actually have a career plan that’s more ‘practical' as they say, but even if I didn’t, I still would study art. It’s what I love.”

"And that's all that matters," Iris comments warmly, and Barry’s surprised to be more moved by her support and approval than he’s ever been by anyone else’s, even his parents and friends.

"I wish I were more artistically inclined,” she sighs. 

 _You are art_ , Barry wants to say, but instead he grasps another opportunity to compliment her. 

"Well, I wish I had your writing skills," he says, meaning it.

Iris perks up, shifting slightly. “You-read my articles?" she asks incredulously. “In the student paper?”

“Ahhh wait-can you go back to how you were,” Barry snickers, finding her excitement endearingly adorable.

“Oops, sorry about that.” Iris settles back into her pose. "I just can’t believe that people actually read what I write in CCU Local. I love researching and reporting, but I was worried about joining the paper here because CCU's journalism program isn't all that. That's why i'm also considering psychology.”

"I think you have potential in either subject," Barry declares sincerely. “I remember how passionate you seemed in class and I’ve read how thorough your articles are. You have a way with words."

“Thanks,” Iris beams. “It's really nice to know that someone out there is reading my stuff.” 

It falls silent momentarily, and his drawing exerts its relaxing properties on Barry. He finds himself consumed by his piece enough for his initial nerves to ease. The bulge between his legs is still there, but thankfully, isn't as bothersome as it first had been. He'd probably take care of it once he got back to his dorm because as much as he hates to admit it, the tension in his body at the sight of hers is too good not to release.

He’s actually almost done sketching her body so that he’ll be able to progress to her face, surprised at how long it’s taken him to get her down on paper compared to his usual pace, but Iris was deserving of all his attention and effort when it came to her details, from her dainty ankles to the grains of her brows and everything in between.

"I'm surprised I'm not sick of this yet," Iris giggles. “Usually I start to get restless after half an hour, but it's been fun talking to you and watching you work.”

Barry tries not to let that get to his head, particularly the part about watching him. 

"How long have you been working as a figure model?” he asks, hoping to deflect the conversation from himself and exhibit a collected manner. 

"This is only my second semester doing it.”

“Do you like it?” he continues, genuinely curious. 

Iris shrugs. “I guess? It's a side gig that earns me some extra money. You know how crazy expensive this school is.”

Barry nods sympathetically, recognizing that probably nothing could unite him and Iris like the burden of college tuition could. 

“Are you-shy about it?” he wonders, unable to help himself. 

“Not really,” Iris replies practically. “I was a little bit when I first started, but you get used to it the more you do it.”

“That makes sense.”

Iris studies him carefully: “You should think about modeling.”

“Me?” he exclaims, pausing from his work to stare at her, bewildered. “I don’t think I could.”  

“Why not?” Iris challenges. 

“I’d be way too nervous,” he snickers. It was true: he didn't think he could ever possess the valor to strip down naked and be scrutinized. 

“You really do get used to it,” she promises, “but I understand, it’s not for everyone.”

“Yeah,” Barry agrees, seizing the opportunity for humor. “It’s for the better though cause I don't think anyone would be too excited to have to draw me,” he jokes. 

“But you’re beautiful,” Iris says simply. 

Barry nearly ruins his sketch with the jerk of his wrist, his face heating dangerously. Of all the possible responses she could have offered, that was the absolute least one he expected. In fact, it never even would have crossed his mind. 

“Uhhh-thanks, that is-that’s really nice of you to say,” he stutters, knowing his blush was deepening with each word he uttered. “Especially when you yourself look-like _that…”_

His brain finally figures it’s better to just shut up and his mouth follows suit. He swallows to get a hold of himself, his heart pounding in his ears as he erases the stray mark on the paper with what he hopes is subtlety. If he didn't know any better he would think that Iris was grinning slyly at him, but he doesn't want to consider what those implications could be. She was most likely just teasing him anyway. 

It’s time now for him to draw her face, so he sighs and gets straight to it, knowing this would be the most challenging part of the session. Copying faces was always more difficult for him than anything else, and at the task of duplicating one like Iris’s, he was intimidated even further.

“Okay so, I don’t mean to be commanding or anything, but I’m working on your face now, so I’ll need you to hold a steady expression, which means-”

“No talking?” Iris guesses.

“No talking,” Barry laughs nervously. Perhaps this was better for his sake as well as the the drawing’s. 

“Got it.”

Once silence permeates the studio though, Barry wishes that they could still talk. In the absence of their casual conversation, the setting and situation suddenly take an intimately private turn from the academic, given her nudity, his attraction to her, and her possibly reciprocated attraction to him (???). The atmosphere becomes too muted for his liking, too charged. Most fraught and suggestive of all is how she bores into his soul with that piercing smolder of hers that he has no choice but to keep looking into, not even just briefly, but requiring his fixed attention, as he has to replicate it as best he can. Without being able to speak, their eyes seem to carry on an exchange of their own, one devoid of words and laden with something else. 

He prays desperately that she's oblivious to the reddening of his cheeks because he senses them burning up again as his focus alternates from her face to the page and back again as he crafts the apex of her chin, the bow of her mouth, the circle of her nose. He attempts to animate the zeal in her eyes, the wisp of her lashes, the purse of her brows…

God, she was gorgeous, and this was turning out to be one of his best pieces, perhaps his best simply because she was so. 

He tries not to each time he glances up at her, but when he studies her lips, he contemplates kissing them, and when he studies her nostrils, he pictures their flare in pleasure, and when he studies her pupils, he imagines them gleaming at him with want-

Barry releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been suppressing at the tension accompanying his overwhelming eye contact with her.

“All done.”

“Already?” Iris queries.

“That’s actually the longest I’ve ever taken,” Barry chuckles. “I’m usually much quicker, but…”

“But?” Iris probes. 

“But…I guess I wanted to take my time,” he says, his gaze directly on hers.

Iris blinks at him before sitting up slowly, making her way toward his chair. He notices she doesn’t fetch her robe to wear again.

“Can I see it?” 

He inhales sharply at her towering over him, but tilts his sketchbook so that she can see her portrait. 

“Wow,” she marvels, drawing her own breath in. “It’s beautiful.” 

“You are,” he agrees, subdued.

Their eyes meet, voluntarily this time. Barry feels a bit lightheaded at her proximity, all the nerves he had repressed materializing. Now that he didn’t have his assignment to occupy him, he was gradually slipping back into his daze at the vision of her.

“Can I-use this for my portfolio?” he asks, somewhat to calm himself and somewhat because he really did want to know if he could.

“Of course,” Iris urges, still seemingly stunned over how well he had done. “People need to see how talented you are.” 

“Its all you,” he insists to her once more.

He doesn’t think he can stand being in her presence any longer, not especially with her still naked, making no attempt to dress, and watching him carefully. The crotch of his jeans starts to constrict again.

Barry stands abruptly. 

“We’d better get going,” he announces, hoping this might prompt her to at least put her robe back on.

Iris continues studying him, as if he hadn’t said anything.

“My TA is waiting for us,” Barry tries anew, using Caitlin as a convenient excuse despite not having been considerate of her earlier. “She has an exam later.” 

Still, Iris doesn’t acknowledge what he’s said. Barry shivers, breaking out into a sweat. There was no sketchbook to save him this time, no diversion he could employ. There was only her standing before him in all her glory, refusing to take her eyes off of him. 

“I signed a form that said I would remain professional throughout the entire session,” Barry offers one last time, his last-ditch effort to prevent what his physiology was readying him for.

That finally elicits a response from Iris.

“So did I,” she whispers, and then she’s on him, and any coherent notion outside of her flees Barry. 

He doesn’t know why he stood from the chair in the first place, since Iris was just going to thrust him back into it, kissing him fiercely as she did. Barry makes a noise he’s never made before, startling himself at how helpless he sounds, but it’s fitting considering he’s never lacked defense like this. 

Then again, did he really expect Iris West to not be a force of her own?

“Iris,” he breathes, powerless beneath her as she sucks on his lips in a frenzy. “Iris- _God_ -” 

She bites him at his pulse point, having moved onto his throat, and Barry thinks he might meet God right then and there, wonders if he’s going to make it out of the studio alive. 

Iris surfaces, but not to go any kind of easy on him.

“Let’s make this an even playing field, no?” she coaxes, lifting the hem of his tee past his navel. 

He doubts his own nudity could repair the imbalance between them, but he lets her strip him of his shirt nonetheless. 

“Wish I could trace these on paper,” she huffs, grazing his freckles with her fingertips. Apparently, not being able to fulfill her wish wasn’t going to stop Iris from trying to, and she bends her neck to lick a path across his chest from mole to mole. 

Barry jerks underneath her tongue, at the mercy of her ministrations. 

“Didn’t you-say you wanted an even playing field?” he manages to get out before shuddering at her wet kisses to his skin. 

A cunning smile takes over Iris’s face, and Barry questions if he just signed his death waiver. 

“You’re right,” Iris smirks, fixating on his groin: “We need balance.” 

Before he can prepare himself, she has his fly open in an instant and her palm around his erection.

“This has been ready for me for a while, hasn’t it?” Iris purrs in his ear. Barry swells even further in her hand, his own way of confessing that, indeed, it had.

She wastes no time wrestling his jeans down to his knees. He kicks them off his feet for her, figuring it was the least he could do. There’s already a dark spot expanding through his shorts, seeping outward as if she needed further proof, and if that wasn’t enough, his springing free at her tugging was the last credence.

She eyes his dick hungrily. 

“You ever try to draw this beauty?” she murmurs, wrapping her fingers around him. 

Barry squeezes his eyes shut, hoping he’ll delay the inevitable. 

“No,” he musters, his legs trembling with anticipation. 

Iris laughs. 

“Relax, I’m not going to let you come like this,” she promises, though she rubs his shaft until his head tilts and his jaw drops, all his control forsaken.  

“I just want to treat you like you treated me, to convince you that you’re beautiful,” she tempts. “Like you’re something to be worshipped, something to be admired, something like art…”   

Her voice drops several octaves as she stills her wrist: “Besides, there’s no way this cock is coming anywhere but inside me.” 

“I told you you have a way with words,” Barry manages to choke out, his hips seeking out her movements again while she giggles at his desperation. “But I hate to break it to you-I don’t have a condom.”

Iris actually swears in frustration, apparently choosing to express her dissatisfaction with him by kissing him furiously. Barry recognizes the chance to finally get on equal footing with her. He manages to get her hands off him and pry her own thighs apart, figuring he should apologize for his lack of protection. 

“What are you-hunnnh…” Her mouth parts to break their kiss as he makes bare contact with her skin, his finger passing where she protrudes most.

Barry swears he can only see the white in her eyes before they close, answering to his fingers on her. He spreads her, already dripping impatience, and strokes her like she’s velvet, up and down the curvature of her, around and between the flesh of her, in and out of the cleft of her. 

“Of course you’re good with your hands,” she rasps, her pelvis surging forward, her depraved attempt to to parallel his touch.

“Only when they have a good subject,” he entices her, getting the hang of her game, and he can tell it’s working because she mewls appreciatively. While his fingers soothe her, he licks the skin under her breasts, just at the line where they started, hoping to rival her even further. He’d outlined them in pencil as best he could, but nothing he had created could come close to her texture beneath his tongue, her flush nipples between his lips. 

The fingers fondling her were now coated down to his knuckles.

“Wait,” she breathes, still feverishly grinding into his hand. “Wait-I want your cock.” 

“But-”

She doesn’t give him the chance to finish because before he knows it, her palm is squeezing the head of him against her. 

“Iris,” he sighs, because the feeling is divine, “I wasn’t lying-I don’t have-” 

“It’s okay,” she gasps, sliding up and down until her cunt opens around the length of him, his shaft locked in the thick of her folds. “Just-do like this…”

And they do just that, Iris rolling into him and Barry bucking into her, exchanging breath to whine and moan together, comprising their own unique chorus. She worries him in between her folds, seesawing up and down his cock, and Barry watches her through half-lidded eyes, knowing that no artist could ever capture the image of her like this arching against him, pressing into him, her breasts moving in rhythm to her panting. Perhaps his whole study of art, maybe even the entirety of its discipline and its practice was futile for this reason alone. 

Just when Barry thinks he can no longer hold out, Iris thrusts forward so that the tip of him aligns with clit. She rubs against his skin one more time until she spasms around him, the sensation so sublime that he in turn shoots upward once, twice, and finally for a third time before trickling back onto the floor.  

Barry lays slack against the chair, astounded at what had just occurred. He couldn’t believe he walked into the studio an hour ago to complete an assignment only to be reduced to a post-orgasmic state with Iris West buried into his shoulder. 

“What-just happened?” he vocalizes, because he feels like he needs confirmation that this is real. 

Iris giggles against him. 

“We made a mess,” she jokes, glancing down at the tile. 

Barry tilts his head back to study her, wondering if she had any regrets about what they had done, but when he finds her beaming down at him, it’s hard to stop his mouth from twisting into a slow, satisfied smile, mirroring her own.

“That was-”

“I know,” Iris agrees, making no attempt to conceal her suggestive grin or the lewd wiggle of her brows. 

Barry’s smile takes on a playful hue of its own. “Aren’t you a writer?” he teases. “Shouldn’t you be able to describe _what_ that was?”

“Yeah, well, some things render you speechless,” she replies haughtily, eyeing his lips before bending forward to take them in her own. Barry smirks at her wit, opening his mouth to accept her kiss-

A pounding on the door startles them apart.

“What are you two _still_ doing in there?!” Caitlin’s muffled voice demands. “I’m going to be late for my exam!” 

It’s then that Barry realizes he very likely may have just lost his chance to earn an A on this assignment, but as he and Iris chuckle together and dress each other, all he can conclude is that she had absolutely been worth it. 

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently I only write AUs with Barry as an artist LOL


End file.
